


The Sound of Silence

by SephSung



Category: Stray Kids (Band)
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blow Jobs, Bottom Lee Minho | Lee Know, Broken Bones, But Like Not in the Hot Way, Car Accidents, Chronic Illness, Crying, Crying During Sex, Dancing, Death, Disco Ball Jisung Rise, Ghost Han Jisung | Han, Ghost Sex, Ghosts, Hand Jobs, Happy Ending, Holding Hands, Illnesses, Kissing, M/M, Neck Kissing, Oral Sex, Overdose, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide, Teasing, Temperature Play, Top Han Jisung | Han, holding hands during sex, maybe i think, sort of lol - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-31
Updated: 2020-10-31
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:34:52
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,883
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27277336
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/SephSung/pseuds/SephSung
Summary: After Jisung's tragic death, Minho thinks he's never going to see Jisung again. However, during a mysterious encounter with a thought to be lost necklace, he's proven wrong.
Relationships: Han Jisung | Han/Lee Minho | Lee Know
Comments: 62
Kudos: 158





	The Sound of Silence

**Author's Note:**

> Hi!! Here is the ghost Jisung fic I mentioned on twitter that I wrote for Halloween. As usual, this was written with the help of [@svngmissive](https://twitter.com/svngmissive) on Twitter / [sungmissive](https://archiveofourown.org/users/sungmissive/pseuds/sungmissive) on AO3. 
> 
> Please go through the tags thoroughly before reading! This is not the happy disco ball ghost Jisung fic that you're probably expecting from me (though there IS some happy disco ball ghost Jisung in it). I don't want to spoil too much, but if suicide is in any way a triggering topic for you, please do not read this.
> 
> If you ARE okay with all of the tags, please enjoy reading and Happy Halloween! :)

Years later, Minho remembered it like it was yesterday.

The crash was vivid in his head; the crack of the passenger seat’s window, the stinging feeling of the glass burying itself inside his face, the way the entire car spun upon being collided with. He had immediately turned to the side to make sure Jisung was okay, only for his eyes to be met with his limp, broken body. 

Jisung had died on impact.

It was his fault. They’d gotten into a fight over something silly, and Minho wasn’t thinking straight. His vision was blurry with tears, and he couldn’t see properly. He ran a red light; the other person couldn’t have seen it coming. 

He remembered Jisung’s cries -- the way he’d begged for him to slow down, to think, to not run that god forsaken red light. But Minho didn’t hear him at the time; it only registered later what he’d said, and by the time he realized, it was too late.

One final cry from Jisung as they were struck by the other car, and then there was _silence._

Minho was used to that now.

Silence was his enemy. It _tortured_ him, making the thoughts inside his head grow so extreme that they threatened to consume him. When Jisung was around, he’d _begged_ for silence every once in a while. That was something Jisung never allowed him.

And now that he had it, he wanted nothing more than to give it back. 

Without Jisung to fill the quiet space, he could hear this damned ringing in his ears, so deafeningly loud that not even his worst thoughts could drown it out. He was certain it was slowly driving him mad, though he might have reached the point of insanity already.

He blamed all of the concerts they’d attended together for his tinnitus, but he didn’t regret going to them in the slightest. Even though the effects of them continued to torment him despite him not having attended a concert since Jisung died, he would never regret it; it wasn’t exactly Minho’s scene, but the music had made Jisung happy, and that was ultimately what mattered.

He had only ever wanted Jisung’s happiness. 

But he’d been stupid. He’d been selfish. He was a _murderer._ He’d killed the person he’d loved most in this stupid, unforgiving world, and now he had to deal with the effects of what he’d done. There was no escaping it.

He considered suicide, but ultimately decided that death was too merciful of a fate for him. He deserved to live with his mistake, deserved to suffer with the knowledge that he was a horrible human being, deserved to live every day in agony. 

Physically, Minho was already dying before the crash. He knew endless pills and countless hospital visits like the back of his hand. A chronic illness, a constant reminder that he’d die before Jisung. He was meant to die before Jisung. He wished he had. He supposed his mind and deteriorating body would eat away at him until they gave up, but it would never be enough of a punishment for what he did. 

He was sitting on his bed when he heard a polite knock at the front door. God knows what time it was; he’d stopped caring about time a long while ago. His alarm would wake him up for work, the day would blur past, and the night was a void of sitting and thinking until his burning eyes fell shut. It was night now, and he had the last of a routine of several pill bottles in his hands. He wasn’t sure what this one did -- he wasn’t sure what any of them did, really, if they did anything at all. They might as well have been placebos. 

Reluctantly, he stood from his bed and threw aside the bottle of pills. He didn’t really feel like answering the door, he never did, but something inside him obligated him to at least check who it was. 

They knocked again as he slowly padded over to the door. Was it that urgent?

Upon peering through the peephole of the door, he was met with the face of a police officer. He wore a sad expression and glanced down to something held in his hands.

Minho unlocked the door and opened it a portion, eyeing the officer through the gap. The man sent him a small, thin smile, as well as a nod in greeting, and Minho let the door open further. Didn’t step out, the door only a quarter of the way open, but the officer could now see his entire face.

“Hey, we were digging through evidence from that crash a while back and we found this. We were about to throw it out because it was so old and you never came to claim it, but… it didn’t feel right.” The officer lowered his eyes, holding out the piece of jewelry. “I’m- uhh, I’m sorry for your loss.”

“Thank you,” Minho replied quietly, taking the necklace into hand. He’d never even thought about going in to claim Jisung’s items; he’d figured he’d gotten them all since he’d taken Jisung’s bag from the scene of the crash. The necklace must have snapped along with Jisung’s neck and fallen loose in the car.

He examined it closely; it was a silver locket with a flower on the outside, but there was something off about it. Minho vaguely remembered gifting it to him, the way Jisung’s face had lit up upon opening it and seeing the picture of the two of them kissing. They’d snapped the photo on their honeymoon in Paris, on top of the Eiffel Tower. 

Minho risked opening it. The picture was still there, still in good condition, and Jisung looked as happy as he always had, grinning into the kiss in that same way that Minho remembered he always did. Tears threatened to fall down his face, but he refused to cry in front of other people, so he swallowed the lump in his throat and thanked the officer again before closing the door.

Now, he could lose his mind.

Guilt consumed him once again as he remembered what he’d done. They were happy. They were so fucking happy, and Minho ruined it. He couldn’t even remember what they’d fought about, probably something trivial like which tv show they were going to watch when they got home. 

It should have been Minho. Jisung was so bright, so beautiful; his future was promising. He was going to be famous; he was already on his way there when Minho shattered his hopes and dreams forever. Minho’s was bland -- office chairs and cranky bosses, aching backs and bitchy coworkers. 

That was all he was. Another drone holding an office job, robotically working 9-5 shifts every weekday. He was sick, too. He wasn’t going to last long anyways. Jisung was special. Jisung was the light of his life, the glue holding him together as he constantly threatened to fall apart.

Without him, he was nothing.

Minho sighed as he dragged his legs over to the bedroom, setting the necklace down on his nightstand. He’d have put it on, but it was broken, and he didn’t know if he could handle that anyways. His eyes continued to water, and he turned away. Prepared for another night of sobbing alone.

There was a sudden rattle from the direction of the nightstand. It could have been anything; something falling from the surface, a shift of the chains from when he’d placed it down, a scuttling mouse that he felt too depressed to deal with. He could have imagined it, even. It wasn’t a single rattle, though, nor two or three, but now a constant, irritating sound, clashing with the ringing in his head and far too fucking distracting.

So he looked over.

The necklace had started vibrating in its place. 

He instinctively backed away, startled, and it began glowing a bright blue.

A colorful gas emanated from the small piece of jewelry, filling the small space in front of him. Minho watched in fascination. When it dissipated, a certain word was stuck on his tongue as he viewed the sight before him. A word he hadn’t spoken in too long. It came out small, yet not at all foreign.

“... Jisung?”

In place of the gas was now what appeared to be a ghostly version of Jisung. He was blue like the glow of the necklace, almost entirely transparent, and he was floating high above him. 

“Jisung?” Minho repeated, louder this time, desperately trying to wave away what was left of the gas so he could see the figure more clearly.

“Minho!” the figure smiled big and bright, immediately floating towards him, and yeah, that was definitely Jisung. Holy shit.

“What are you doing here?” Minho asked, not believing his eyes.

“I was inside the necklace! Haunted jewelry… Spooky, right?” Jisung laughed. “Why didn’t you get me sooner?! Do you know how bored I’ve been?!”

“I- I didn’t know,” Minho’s lip quivered. He could have been with Jisung in some form this entire time, and he’d missed out all because some stupid cops decided not to tell him they had something that belonged to him until now. He’d have found the time to be more angry if not for the fact that _Han fucking Jisung_ , the love of his life who he’d _killed_ in a car crash _years_ ago was standing before him.

“It’s okay, I forgive you! But you’re going to have to make it up to me.” Jisung raised his eyebrows suggestively. 

“I- sure. But… what are you? Can I even touch you?” Minho asked, reaching his hand out slowly.

“I’m a ghoooost!” Jisung wiggled his fingers dramatically. It was so like him to joke in such a situation. “And I don’t know! Try it.” Jisung met him halfway, but Minho’s hand just slipped through Jisung’s as if he were made of air. 

“Oh,” Minho sighed disappointedly. “Of course not.”

“Hold on,” Jisung said, closing his eyes tightly. He grew less transparent with every second he kept his eyes shut, until eventually he looked nearly solid, and then he held his hand out again. “Try now.”

Minho hesitantly stretched his hand out again, and this time, he was able to slide his fingers in between Jisung’s. They were icy cold to the touch, but he was a solid, tangible being. He was here, and Minho could really touch him. This had to have been some kind of dream.

Jisung grinned, immediately pulling Minho into a chilly, crushing hug that had him shivering. Minho instinctively threaded his fingers into his hair, petting the strands that practically felt like little icicles, and Jisung leaned into his touch, sighing happily.

“I missed you,” Minho whispered shakily, still in complete disbelief that Jisung was here, with him, in his arms. 

“I missed you too.” Jisung pulled back just enough to take in his face, tilting his head to the side. “You’ve gotten skinnier. Have you not been eating well?”

“I haven’t had much of an appetite ever since the accident,” Minho admitted. “You’ve gotten… ghostlier.” Minho supposed that Jisung looked the same, aside from the fact that he was currently blue.

“Well whose fault is that?” Jisung quirked an eyebrow at him teasingly.

“I- I’m sorry.” Minho looked down. He knew he was joking; it was clear he didn’t have any ill feelings towards Minho, but he still felt awful for what he’d done to him.

“It’s okay. It wasn’t your fault, really.” Jisung leaned into the hug again, resting his head on Minho’s shoulder. Minho held him tighter, cradling his head against him. “I know how you get when we fight. I shouldn’t have let you drive.”

“It was, though,” Minho sighed, his eyes watering as he recalled the accident. “You tried to tell me to stop, but I didn’t listen.”

“Doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, I still let you drive when we should have walked. If you really want to place blame, it’s both of our faults,” Jisung insisted. “Anyways, that doesn’t matter anymore. I’m here now, and things will be just like before!”

“Jisung…” Minho trailed off, knowing nothing would be the same as it was. “You’re a ghost.”

“So? I’m still the same old Jisung. Except now, when we go to concerts, we’ll only have to pay for one ticket because no one else can see me!”

“How come I can see you if no one else can?”

“I don’t know,” Jisung just shrugged. “I’m not questioning it. You shouldn’t either.”

“I guess you’re right,” Minho exhaled. “I’m so happy you’re finally here.”

“Me too.” Jisung nuzzled his nose into Minho’s neck the way he always used to, and Minho finally started crying. He didn’t deserve to have Jisung back. He’d killed him. He wasn’t supposed to be happy, and yet… the world must have taken pity on him. Or maybe he was hallucinating.

At this point, it wouldn’t surprise him. He was really losing it. But Jisung seemed so _real,_ standing crystal clear in the middle of his room, of _their_ room, acting just like the same boy he’d fallen in love with all those years back.

“Jisung, you’re real, right?” Minho sniffled, tears cascading down his face rapidly and soaking Jisung’s shirt. 

“Of course I’m real, silly.” Jisung pulled back to look at him again, caressing Minho’s cheek as he wiped his tears away. “If I were fake, could I do _this?_ ” He leaned forward slowly, his eyes flitting between Minho’s eyes and mouth, then softly connected their lips. Jisung’s lips were icy against his own; he didn’t know how he could possibly be imagining this.

“I- I don’t know,” Minho babbled as Jisung pulled away, his head spinning from the kiss. “I think… you might need to do more.”

“More?” Jisung laughed. “Sure, let’s do more.” 

Jisung connected their lips again and started backing Minho against the bed, and before he knew it, he was laying down with Jisung on top of him, his shirt pulled up halfway as Jisung trailed his fingers along his stomach. The chilly touch caused shivers to run up and down his spine, and he squeaked against Jisung’s mouth.

“Jisung,” Minho eventually broke the kiss to whine out his name needily, pulling him closer. He wrapped his legs around his back, trying to feel the entirety of Jisung’s body against him. He wanted him as close as possible, wanted to feel him everywhere. “Want you.”

“Where do you want me?” Jisung panted, leaning in to kiss Minho’s neck and jaw.

“I don’t know, just- just want…” Minho sobbed, pushing Jisung’s shirt up, desperate to feel every inch of him.

“Okay, okay. Relax, baby.” Jisung bit into his neck, his teeth as sharp as ever. Even his breath was cold against him as he kissed and licked where he’d bitten, as if he were trying to heal the bruise he’d surely caused. 

Jisung’s hands travelled further up his shirt, and Minho cried out when they reached his sensitive nipples, his icy cold touch hardening them as he circled and pinched them. “Please,” he whimpered, unsure what he was even begging for. He couldn’t think straight, his mind consumed by Jisung.

Minho had missed him so fucking much; he had never thought he’d be able to touch him again, especially not like this, so to have him now, to be able to feel him against him; it was heaven. Maybe _Minho_ had died, maybe this was his heaven -- just being alone with Jisung. He wouldn’t care if he was dead, as long as he could be with him.

Absorbed in his own thoughts, he almost didn’t notice Jisung’s hands moving down to his waistband, rubbing his fingers underneath it teasingly. He looked into Jisung’s eyes, and Jisung gazed back lustfully, like he wanted this just as badly as Minho did. He pulled the front of Minho’s sweatpants down, freeing his cock from its confines, and he smirked before taking it into his freezing cold hand.

Minho hadn’t even realized that he was leaking precum until Jisung was spreading it along his length, his thumb rubbing circles around Minho’s tip then dragging the liquid downwards. Minho immediately bucked up into his touch, silently asking for more.

“I almost forgot how pretty you look underneath me,” Jisung whispered, his voice hoarse as if he wanted to cry also.

“It’s been so long,” Minho reminisced. “I haven’t… been with anyone since before the accident. Since you. I might- _fuck_.”

He moaned and threw his head back in pleasure as Jisung expertly flicked his wrist, jerking him off in the exact way he knew Minho liked it. Jisung knew him up and down, inside out, and if there was anything he was a professional at, it was getting him off.

“Jisung,” Minho whimpered out his name pathetically. “Jisung, please. I won’t last long like this.”

"Good," Jisung giggled, twisting his hand around the base of Minho's cock mercilessly. “We shouldn’t waste any time. Who knows how long we have together?”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Minho didn’t like the idea of Jisung disappearing again.

“I mean… I’m a ghost. What if I like, accidentally pass on or something?”

“N-no,” Minho sniveled, gripping onto Jisung’s shirt desperately, as if it would keep him here with him. “You can’t. I lost you once, I can’t lose you again.”

“You’re right.” Jisung leaned down, connecting their lips in a frenzied, messy kiss, then suddenly pulled back to look him in the eyes. “I’m not going anywhere anytime soon. I’ll make sure of it,” he said sincerely, caressing Minho’s cheek with his free hand, his other one now just lightly teasing the head of Minho’s cock as they spoke.

“Okay,” Minho whispered softly, reaching up to hold Jisung’s hand against his face. “Do you promise?”

“I promise.” Jisung held out his pinky, and Minho intertwined his with Jisung’s, securing the promise. “Now, let me make you feel good.”

“Please.” Minho let go of Jisung’s hand, allowing him to slide underneath his shirt again, pinching one of his nipples. His touch was so cold that it felt like ice against his sensitive skin, causing his nipple to perk up immediately, practically begging for Jisung to toy with it.

“You’re so beautiful,” Jisung complimented. He switched to his other nipple and circled the sensitive bud until it became hard as well, then he squeezed it between his thumb and index finger, earning a soft moan from Minho. “So fucking beautiful. I want you to be loud for me, can you do that?”

Minho just nodded and whimpered, unable to find words as Jisung continued playing with him. He tugged at Jisung’s shirt, silently begging for him to take it off, and Jisung paused his movements for a moment to appease him. Even in ghost form, Jisung’s body was gorgeous; his muscles were soft yet toned, and his arms were bigger than he remembered. Maybe ghost Jisung had been working out.

It was a little freaky being partially able to see through Jisung’s body, but his features were still visible enough, so Minho chose to ignore it to the best of his ability. He was a ghost, after all, and these were things that Minho would just have to learn to accept were the new reality. It was far better than not having him at all.

“Raise your arms,” Jisung commanded softly, removing Minho’s shirt as well after he did as he was told. “Good boy.” 

Both of Jisung’s hands caressed Minho’s upper body, and he shivered underneath his touch, his entire body trembling both from the cold and the anticipation of Jisung’s next move. He rutted his hips upwards, subconsciously trying to get Jisung to touch him down there again.

When Jisung made no move to satisfy him, only teasingly ran his fingers up and down Minho’s torso, occasionally flitting over his nipples, Minho whined loudly. He put his hand over one of Jisung’s, and Jisung watched with a raised eyebrow as Minho slid their hands down his body, all the way down to his cock. 

“Please touch me,” Minho begged quietly, his cheeks flushing a soft pink. He didn’t like to beg, but he was needy, and his weeping cock required Jisung’s attention _now_.

“Alright, alright,” Jisung giggled at his impatience, wrapping his fingers around Minho’s cock one by one. He deliberately dragged his hand up and down his length slowly, causing Minho to needily buck into his touch. 

“Sungie, please.” The nickname rolled off his tongue naturally despite having not used it for years. 

“Please what?”

“Faster,” Minho panted as he continued thrusting into Jisung’s hand, essentially doing all the work.

Jisung finally relented his teasing, moving his hand up and down rapidly while twisting his wrist. Minho cried out as he finally got what he wanted: Jisung touching him in the way he knew he liked again. It felt so overwhelmingly good; he hadn’t touched himself in so long, maybe having tried it only once or twice since Jisung died, so he was especially sensitive to every movement of Jisung’s hand.

Minho found himself gripping the sheets, calling out Jisung’s name as his impending orgasm grew closer and closer. He watched as Jisung undid the button and zipper of his pants with his free hand, and his mouth watered at the sight of him pulling out his cock. He’d always had a fixation with Jisung’s cock -- loved touching it, feeling it, having it inside of him, and it seemed that even in Jisung’s changed state, that stayed the same.

Jisung leaned forward and lined his cock up against Minho’s, then he jerked them both off at the same time at a rough, steady pace. Minho found the contrast between his and Jisung’s cocks amusing; while Minho’s was short and pale, Jisung’s was long and glowed a translucent blue like the rest of him. They looked pretty together, with Jisung’s hands surrounding them, making them both feel good. 

“I’m close,” Minho stuttered out, his hips jerking erratically. “Fuck, Jisung.”

“Me too,” Jisung hissed, his bottom lip caught between his teeth in a way Minho was well acquainted with. He leaned down to press a cold kiss onto Minho’s mouth, his hands still working both of their cocks in between them. Minho kissed back fervently, surprising Jisung by sliding his tongue between his small lips, and they made out messily, saliva coating each of their faces as their tongues intertwined. 

Making out with him was the thing that was most different from before so far; while their kisses should have felt the same, Jisung’s mouth was now like an icy cavern, and it felt strange sticking his tongue into it. And yet, he couldn’t help but wonder what it would feel like around his cock.

Minho let out a needy noise at the thought, thrusting into Jisung’s hand harder. His moans were muffled by Jisung’s mouth, but he was still louder than he should have been given that he had neighbors who knew he lived alone; regardless, Jisung had asked him to be loud, and he wasn’t one to deny him a request, especially not now, so he made no effort to quiet himself further. 

“Fuck, _fuck_ ,” Minho cursed within a string of breathless whines, all soaked up by Jisung’s icy mouth, shaking hands clinging onto him with a force that was louder than words. “Gonna- I-”

“Shit, baby, cum with me,” Jisung groaned. 

He’d missed this. This kind of moment, where they’d grasp at one another’s bodies as they knocked each other into ecstasy, gasping and rutting. Where the overwhelming pleasure was all that mattered, and where _they_ were all that mattered. Minho found himself crying again, with Jisung’s name on his tongue and his on Jisung’s as they both rode out their orgasms. 

He might have gotten sentimental after it was over, might have reminisced and cried some more, but instead he jolted at the sudden cold liquid that coated his tummy and peeked down to see that it was glowing. _Glowing._ “Whoa, your cum glows.”

“Oh, yeah! It’s cool, right?” The ghost seemed rather proud of it, flashing a big grin. “Wanna taste?”

Minho’s voice was croaky from crying. “Is it… safe?”

“Why wouldn’t it be safe? It’s just cum.”

“It’s _glowing_ cum, Jisung, from a _ghost_ ,” Minho clarified. “Have you tried it?”

“Well, no, but...” Jisung swiped some from Minho’s tummy and shifted forward to bring a couple of fingers closer to his mouth. “Who knows? Maybe it’ll taste fucking amazing.”

Admittedly a little curious himself, Minho parted his lips to let Jisung’s fingers enter his mouth, immediately shivering upon feeling the coldness of his skin and cum meet his tongue. He sucked them, rolled his tongue around them, and took in the taste.

Eventually, Jisung pulled them out and looked at him with an expectant stare. Minho sighed. “It just tastes like regular cum.”

“That’s so boring,” Jisung complained. He flopped down beside Minho, evidently choosing to deal with the mess later, and wrapped an arm around his waist. Minho snuggled closer to him, exhaustion quickly catching up to him; he hadn’t exerted so much energy in _years_. The last time he’d tried to jerk off, the guilt had overcome him and obliterated his ability to grow hard, so he hadn’t been lying to Jisung when he’d said it had been so long. “Are you going to sleep, baby?”

He didn’t want to. He wanted to stay up all night talking to Jisung, wanted to spend every second making up for the time he’d spent without him, but his eyes were already gluing themselves shut, betraying him.

He didn’t want to, because he didn’t want to risk waking up and losing him again. He wouldn’t be able to bear it if this was a dream. 

“Please stay with me,” Minho whispered, turning to hug Jisung, arms wrapped around his cold body and face pressed into his neck. 

Jisung softly carded his fingers through his hair. “I already promised you I would, remember? I’m not going anywhere.”

Minho nodded and hugged him tighter.

A gentle kiss to his head followed by a quiet “goodnight, baby”, and he allowed sleep to consume him.

He was awoken by flashing lights and the sound of funky music blaring through his speakers. As he rubbed his eyes and his vision cleared, he realized that the flashing lights were emanating from Jisung, who was in the center of the room rapidly changing colors, his body entirely transparent again. It appeared that he was curled up into a little ball, spinning around in circles.

“Jisung, what the fuck?” Minho called out, covering his eyes with his hands to shield himself from the bright light.

“Check me out, I’m a disco ball!” Jisung announced loudly. “I figured out I could change colors, Minho! Isn’t that cool? I can get so bright!”

“That’s amazing,” Minho replied dryly. “But it’s the middle of the night, Sungie, we should be asleep.”

“But I’m a ghooooost! I don’t need any sleep,” Jisung whined. “Come on, come dance with me! It’ll be just like when we used to go to those clubs.”

“I can’t, I really need to be asleep. I have work tomorrow,” Minho groaned, hand resting on his tummy, which he suddenly noticed had a lack of dry globs of cum painted across it. It seemed Jisung had cleaned up their mess while he was sleeping.

“B-but,” Jisung sounded really sad suddenly, and Minho felt a pang in his heart. “...but I’m a disco ball.”

“Fine,” Minho sighed, barely managing to get out of bed. It wasn’t like he could say no to him. He limped over to where Jisung was, and Jisung did a little happy flip as he approached. Minho started swaying back and forth slowly, to which Jisung clapped, clearly pleased with Minho’s tired attempt at dancing.

Jisung matched his movements, then started doing little shimmies. Minho had always found Jisung’s dancing adorable, but something about it now was especially endearing. Maybe it was because he hadn’t seen him dance in years, or maybe it was the excited look on his face as he wiggled his entire body around with no sense of rhythm. Either way, Minho felt like he was back in high school again, falling in love with the cute idiot making a fool of himself on the gym floor.

“I love you,” he confessed suddenly, reaching out to grab Jisung’s hips but immediately realizing he wouldn’t be able to get a grasp on him like this. Jisung’s entire body froze for a moment as if he were malfunctioning, and then he was grinning dorkily, closing his eyes and making himself solid again. Minho wasn’t sure how he did it, but somewhere during the process, he switched the music to something smooth and sensual.

“I love you too,” Jisung replied after he’d finished transforming, seeming to settle on the color blue again. He moved closer to Minho, until their bodies were pressed together. It only took one slow roll of Minho’s hips for Jisung to lean in and kiss him, needily rubbing his hips against Minho’s as his tongue slipped inside of his mouth.

Their dance sessions almost always ended up like this, with both of them desperately grinding against each other as they made out. It didn’t matter where they were; it was always like it was just the two of them, both lost in their own little world where only the other mattered. 

Minho didn’t have to be a psychic to know that Jisung would sink down to his knees, hungrily mouthing at Minho’s half hard cock. It always happened as soon as they were in private, or when they went to sex clubs, sometimes in front of everyone else. Jisung was always the one to make the first move, whether it be slipping his hand down the front of Minho’s pants, or in this case, pulling them down completely to suck him off, it was always him.

“Jisung,” Minho moaned out his name as he took the head of his cock into his mouth, enveloping it into the cold. His hips immediately bucked forward -- Jisung’s mouth had always felt amazing, so wet and so aware of all of Minho’s sensitive spots, and now that it was also so cold, it somehow felt even _better_ , especially after so long. Aside from the temperature change, it was as if it hadn’t been years since the last time Jisung had sucked him off, his tongue already serving to make him gasp and desperately thrust into his icy mouth. “God, fuck, you’re still so good at this.”

He took all of his cock past his lips and hollowed his cheeks, staring up at him with those big, bright eyes that he’d always loved, that he still loved so much. With his hands curled around Minho’s legs for stability, his thumbs tracing loving patterns into the squishy flesh, he began to bob his head over the length. The cold insides of his cheeks dragging against Minho’s dick felt so damn _good_ , so good that Minho found himself grasping at his hair in an attempt to ground himself, only to pull a surprised hum out of Jisung that vibrated through his entire cock. 

The more Jisung salivated, the icier it became, though never becoming too much for Minho; his eyes rolled back and hips stuttered, it all becoming overwhelming so quickly. “I’m gonna cum, Sungie. Can I cum in your mouth, please?”

Another hum around his sensitive, weeping cock, this time of affirmation, and then Jisung was sending him over the edge, shallowly bobbing his lips near the tip and using his hand to jerk the rest of the length in quick, messy movements. Minho released into his mouth with a too-loud, high-pitched whine, shaking all over, that same exhaustion returning almost immediately. Jisung pulled back and easily swallowed his load.

When Jisung stood back up, he wrapped his arms around Minho’s neck and kissed him, still lazily swaying his hips to the slow beat of the song. It wasn’t a deep kiss, rather chaste and soft, which Minho was thankful for given how tired he was already becoming once again. Jisung grinned into it, just like he had in the photo in the necklace. Just like he always did.

Minho weakly held his hips as they swayed, staring into his eyes. “You’re so pretty.”

Jisung giggled. “Even now that I’m like this?”

“You’re pretty no matter what,” Minho replied honestly. “Also, your skin can change color now. I’d call that an improvement, if anything.”

He let out another adorable giggle and pressed their lips together once again. “Sorry I kept you up.”

“You’re not sorry.”

A third giggle. Minho loved to hear it. “Well, we had a fun little party, and I sucked your dick, so it couldn’t have been that bad, right?”

“No, you’re right. I had fun,” Minho said with a soft smile. “But I really do need to get some more sleep, so try to hold back from being a disco ball for the next few hours, please.”

“I’ll try. No promises,” he teased. 

Minho could hardly stay awake, his eyes forcing closed just as they’d done earlier, so he landed another quick peck to Jisung’s lips, crashed onto his bed and was out like a light. 

Pulling himself out of bed to go to work was always hard. His body always felt heavy, the ringing in his ears was always annoying as hell, and he always had to wake up to a room without Jisung in it. The first two things were the same, but this time, upon opening his eyes, he was met with Jisung’s blue, beaming face, cradled in one palm with the other clutching a travel mug as he clearly waited for Minho to wake up. “Good morning, baby!”

He could get used to this. He used to be, and took advantage of it. Today he was so thankful. 

“I got bored waiting for you to wake up, so I made you a coffee to go, and I cleaned up a bit!” The ghost proudly exclaimed, gesturing to the rest of the room. It really wasn’t that much cleaner, with things messily shoved into drawers and onto his desk, but he appreciated the effort. When he passed the coffee to him, it was cold, seemingly from being held in his hand for a while. He decided against telling him.

Work was work -- a blur that he never quite remembered once he arrived back to his house. Work was work, but he found himself smiling at random times throughout the day, recalling Jisung, recalling his smile, recalling how he was _back_ , and how he could touch him, and kiss him, and giggle with him over silly things. His light back in his life.

It didn’t matter how shitty work was, or that his body was failing him, or that his pills couldn’t help him. Jisung was back. 

He anticipated seeing Jisung at the entrance to his apartment when he returned home. He looked forward to it all day. He expected it.

But instead, when he walked through the door, he was greeted with nothingness.

“Jisung?” Minho called out to the seemingly empty apartment; the silence he received in return was deafening. “Jisung, baby, I’m home.”

Had it all really been a dream? Had he passed on in only a few hours? Minho searched every corner of the apartment, every little crevice, every nook and cranny. There were no signs that Jisung had ever been there at all; his necklace sat untouched on his nightstand, not glowing, not emanating any gases. Just sitting.

“Jisung?” Minho cried loudly, panic rising in his chest. He felt like he was going to throw up. “This isn’t funny, please come out.” 

Silence. That dreaded silence, that stupid ringing in his ears. It was all back. He’d lost Jisung again, or maybe he’d never had him back in the first place. Regardless, it somehow hurt even worse this time; Minho felt like his insides were being torn apart, like his heart was being shattered, like every fiber of his being was in agony as the reality of the situation settled upon him.

He couldn’t live like this. He wouldn’t live like this. 

Minho made his way to the bedroom with a newfound determination; he was _going_ to see Jisung again, one way or another. If this was what he had to do in order to be with him, then so be it. He was tired of suffering alone, even if he deserved it, even if he’d brought this hell upon himself. All he wanted was to be with Jisung.

He collected every bottle of pills, collected them into his arms, and brought them to the kitchen, where he emptied them all onto the countertop. He wished he’d stopped taking them a while ago so they’d be more full, but even with them all scattered on the surface, there seemed to be a lot. It had better be enough. 

Throwing aside every bottle except one, not bothering to care that some of them rolled off of the counter and onto the floor, he used his palm to guide every last pill into the container. Tears cascaded down his face as it filled with large ovals and circles.

He didn’t know what any of these damned things even did, or what they would do all mixed together inside of him; he just prayed to whatever higher being was out there that this would kill him.

With shaking hands, he slowly brought the pills up to his open mouth, and-

“BOO!” came a loud shout from behind him. 

Minho _screamed,_ the pills falling out of his hand and spilling out all over the counter again. He turned around in simultaneous shock, anger, and relief, and there was Jisung, smiling as if he hadn’t just walked in on Minho’s suicide attempt. Maybe he didn’t realize; with his back turned to him, Jisung couldn’t have known how many pills he was holding.

“Jisung, what the fuck?!” Minho shouted, banging his hands against Jisung’s chest. Tears welled up in his eyes. “I thought you were _gone,_ I was about to fucking kill myself!”

Jisung’s face fell as he realized the effects of what he probably thought was a funny prank. “I- I was in the hamper,” he admitted softly. “I’m sorry, I didn’t think-”

“That’s the problem!” Minho sobbed into his shirt, desperately holding onto his cold body as if it would stop him from ever leaving him again. “You don’t think sometimes. You don’t think, and it _hurts_ me. It almost killed me, even.”

“You’re right.” Jisung’s bottom lip quivered, and soon there were glowy tears pouring down his face as well. “I’m so fucking dumb, I- I thought you would be relieved that I was gone, happy that you could finally get some peace and quiet. I know I’m annoying, and I know I’m not a good fit for you. I really thought-”

“Jisung, I love you to death. _Literally,_ ” Minho sniffled, raising his head enough to be able to look Jisung in the eyes. “I can’t do this anymore.”

“Wh-what do you mean?” Jisung looked at him frantically, his eyes desperately searching for answers in Minho’s own.

“I mean, I can’t do this whole ‘being alive while you’re dead’ thing anymore. I can’t risk you disappearing on me again. I need to be _with_ you, in the same state as you. We will disappear together, into heaven or hell or wherever people like us go.”

“Minho, what are you talking about? You have your whole life ahead of you, you can’t-”

“I can, and I _have to_ ,” Minho interrupted him, reaching his hand up to wipe one of Jisung’s tears. “I haven’t had the chance to tell you yet, but the treatment isn’t working. This illness... It’s eating me from the inside out. I’m slowly and painfully dying every day. Living any longer would just be prolonging the inevitable.”

“But- but-” Jisung stammered. “What if you don’t come back as a ghost? I only came back because I was attached to that necklace. What if you don’t attach to anything? What if you just move on without me?”

“I will come back, I promise.” Minho cupped his cheek and kissed him sincerely. When they pulled apart for air, Minho stretched his pinky out, and Jisung interlocked his finger with Minho’s, securing the promise. “I’ll attach to you. Wherever you go, I’ll follow.”

“Okay,” Jisung exhaled softly, seeming to accept that. “Okay. So… what now?” he asked, looking smaller and more vulnerable than Minho had ever seen him.

“Now, I gather up all these pills and I swallow them, and you take care of me until I see you on the other side,” Minho smiled softly as he turned away from Jisung, beginning to pick up all the pills off of the counter with blurry eyes. Jisung’s sobs grew louder, and Minho felt his cold embrace against his back. “It’ll be alright, Jisung. I promise everything’s going to be alright. _We_ are going to be alright.”

“We’re going to be alright,” Jisung repeated to himself, holding Minho close. “You better not be lying to me.”

“I would never lie to you,” Minho said honestly. He meant it. He didn’t know how or why, but he was positive everything was going to be okay.

“I love you,” Jisung whispered, his voice shaky as he sobbed into Minho’s back. “So much.”

“I love you more,” Minho whispered back, turning around to face Jisung again, this time with a shaky hand full of pills. He grabbed his half empty cup of water from earlier that morning, and he gulped. This was it. 

“Aren’t you afraid?” Jisung asked, reaching out to hold Minho’s waist.

“No,” Minho answered. He’d spent a long time wanting to die; he wasn’t going to back down now, especially not now that he had a reason to aside from guilt. 

Jisung stared as Minho slowly moved his hand up towards his open mouth. He leaned his head back and tossed the pills inside, then gulped them down with the remainder of his glass of water. Jisung immediately moved to embrace him as soon as he set the glass down, and Minho held him in his arms, slowly rocking back and forth. 

“Stop crying, it’s all gonna be okay,” Minho soothed. He kissed the top of Jisung’s head as he nuzzled his nose into his neck in that familiar way, his tears soaking Minho’s skin and shirt. “We can be together forever now.”

“Really?” Jisung asked, looking up at him with wide eyes.

“Really. Just you and me, always and forever.” Minho leaned down, capturing Jisung’s lips in a kiss that somehow didn’t feel so cold. His hands roamed Jisung’s back, sliding underneath the fabric of his shirt frenziedly. “But this may be the last time we can… you know. I don’t know what things are like between ghosts, or when we pass over.”

“What are you saying?” Jisung looked up at him, concern and fear apparent in his eyes.

“We should fuck one last time before I die,” Minho suggested softly. “But only if you want.”

“Okay,” Jisung agreed quickly, surprising Minho. “I want to be as close to you as possible, that way you’ll for sure attach to me.”

Minho nodded, dropping to his knees in front of him. Jisung threaded his fingers into Minho’s hair as he undid the button and zipper of his pants, revealing Jisung’s soft cock. He gently kissed and licked the head; he was still crying softly, but Minho’s suggestion seemed to have brought him some comfort, even if just a little, so he allowed himself to mewl and become distracted by his tongue. Minho was so gentle with him, light in his movements as he brought more of his cock into his mouth, curling one hand near the base to pump it to life. It eventually began to harden, and Minho bobbed as much of the length between his lips as he could. 

He removed himself from his cock a while after he grew completely hard, still jerking it within his fist and shooting him a reassuring glance. Jisung helped him up off his knees and took Minho’s hand in his, leading him up to the bedroom, where he backed Minho onto the bed much like he had the day before, only this time, there was this intense air of desperation. 

Minho lifted his hips up so Jisung could remove his pants, then raised his arms so his shirt could be taken off as well. He needily gripped Jisung's clothing, urging him to take them off, and Jisung hurriedly did as Minho wanted. There really was no time to waste.

Jisung leaned down to give Minho a small kiss before heading to the drawer where he knew the lube would be. “Is that even still good?” Minho joked as Jisung examined the bottle, not truly caring whether it was or not.

“I don’t know. Does lube expire?” Jisung looked worried.

“Probably, but it’s fine. What’s the worst that’s gonna happen? I’m already dying, expired lube can’t kill me. Now come here.” Minho motioned him over, making grabby hands at him.

“Stop talking about you dying, it’s really killing the mood,” Jisung pouted, jerking himself off to maintain his erection while walking back to settle himself between Minho’s legs.

“What? It’s true, and I want you to fuck me like it’s the last time you’ll ever be able to. Because for all we know, maybe it is.” Minho spread his legs wider for him, showing off his tight hole.

Jisung sighed. “I guess you’re right. I’ll fuck you so hard you won’t be able to walk for… ever.” He smiled weakly, still crying, then poured some lube onto his fingers. 

Minho inhaled sharply as Jisung’s index finger pressed past his soft ring of muscles; it must have been ages since he’d last been fucked, and the feeling of having something inside of him almost felt foreign to him, though not in a bad way. It was exciting, experiencing something that felt like new. It was like he was a virgin all over again, falling apart under Jisung’s expert touch, although Jisung sure didn’t seem like much of an expert now.

“Sungie, it’s okay,” Minho tried to soothe him again, but Jisung just cried harder in return.

“Nothing is okay. You’re dying,” Jisung sobbed. “You’re dying and I didn’t even try to stop you.” 

“Shh, baby,” Minho intertwined his fingers with Jisung’s free hand. “I want to go. It’s the only way we can truly be together, remember? I want this, I promise. I’ve wanted this for years.”

“Okay,” Jisung nodded as if trying to reassure himself, then pushed his finger deeper inside of Minho. “I just… I just want to make this as good for you as possible.”

“You will. Can you give me a second finger, love?” Minho asked sweetly, squeezing Jisung’s hand. Jisung just nodded again, silently slipping his middle finger in along with his index finger, then he curled his fingers up in the way that Minho always liked. “Perfect, you’re perfect,” Minho whispered, bucking his hips in an attempt to get Jisung’s fingers deeper inside of him. 

“You’re the perfect one,” Jisung smiled, pushing his fingers in as deep as they would go, keeping them angled up against his prostate. Jisung really knew him like the back of his hand, to be able to please him so perfectly even after all these years. “Do you want a third?” 

“Yes please.” Minho rubbed soothing circles into the side of Jisung’s hand with his thumb, anticipating the feeling of Jisung’s ring finger entering him. When it finally did, Minho couldn’t help but moan at the stretch, not used to feeling so full. 

“Are you okay?” Jisung asked softly, pausing his movements. “It doesn’t hurt, does it?”

“I’m more than okay, and it doesn’t hurt at all, sweetheart. You’re being so good to me,” Minho replied tenderly. “You could even fuck me like this, I’m ready.” 

“Are you sure?” Jisung asked, his dick twitching noticeably at the idea.

“Positive. Want to feel you inside of me,” Minho pulled Jisung forwards by the hand, to where he was on top of him. Jisung pulled his fingers out as he moved closer to him, instead using them to pour lube on his cock. Once he was adequately slicked up, Jisung pressed the head of his cock to Minho’s hole, staring him in the eyes as he did so.

“Are you sure you’re ready?” Jisung asked, searching Minho’s eyes for any signs of hesitation. He mustn’t have found any, his face morphing into an expression of relief.

“Yes, baby,” Minho grabbed Jisung’s other hand for comfort. “I want you so badly.”

“Want you too,” Jisung mumbled into his neck, their bodies now pressed together completely. Maybe it was because Jisung warmed up somehow, or maybe it was because he was dying, but Jisung no longer felt so cold. “Want you more than you could ever know.”

Jisung pressed into him slowly, watching as Minho’s mouth fell open in a small gasp. Jisung was perfect for him, just big enough to fill him up but not so big that he’d hurt him. He laid there with just the tip of his cock inside of him for a moment, then when Minho nodded, silently urging him on, he pushed in further. 

Eventually, Jisung had bottomed out inside of him, and Minho felt so wonderfully full of _Jisung,_ his body and mind consumed by him as he slowly began thrusting in and out of him. “Fuck,” Minho whimpered, his grip on Jisung’s hands tightening as he started a slow but steady pace.

“You’re so tight,” Jisung complimented with a small groan. Minho just wrapped his legs around Jisung’s back, entangling himself with him, trying to feel him closer, always closer. It was thrilling, fucking Jisung while on the brink of death; his heart raced, and he wanted nothing more than for Jisung to fuck him until he didn’t have a thought left that wasn’t his name.

“Jisung,” Minho moaned out, already getting to that point. He couldn’t even think about how he was slowly fading away, his mind too full of the love of his life to acknowledge the reality of what he’d done. He was dying, and he was okay with it. Because his suffering would finally be over. Because he could finally be with Jisung. “Faster, please. Harder.”

Jisung immediately obliged his request, pulling out almost completely then snapping his hips forwards _hard._ Minho trembled in place, his legs shaking as he was fucked into forcefully, Jisung hitting his sweet spot with nearly every thrust. He whined and cried out with every movement of Jisung’s hips, always asking for _more_ , never quite feeling like he could get enough of him.

“I love you,” Jisung gasped, his voice shaky as he continued to cry. “I love you more than anything.”

“I love you too.” Minho pulled Jisung impossibly closer, their sweaty bodies moving against each other as they fucked. He didn’t know when he’d started crying too, but he could feel hot tears flooding down his face, coming down fast without any signs of stopping, just like Jisung’s hips against Minho’s.

“I’m close,” Jisung whimpered, his thrusts growing sloppy and erratic, only occasionally hitting Minho’s prostate. “Where do you want me to cum?”

“Inside,” Minho kept his legs wrapped around Jisung’s back, making it impossible for him to pull out even if he wanted to. 

“Of course,” Jisung smiled, steadying himself again before angling himself in a way that would allow each thrust to directly hit Minho’s prostate. “But I want you to cum first.”

Minho screamed noisily and his entire body shuddered and shook with each plunge of Jisung’s cock inside of him, and Jisung wasn’t faring much better, his arms growing wobbly as he struggled not to collapse completely against Minho’s chest. 

“I love you,” Minho repeated again, his mind growing fuzzy and vision going blurry. He was so ridiculously in love; Minho was positive that he and Jisung were made to please each other, fitting together like two puzzle pieces. They shouldn’t have fit so well; they were so different, had such little in common, but they made it work somehow, and they would always and forever.

“ _Fuck,_ ” Jisung hissed, his hips moving faster, only spurred on by Minho’s confession even though he’d heard it dozens of times before. “I love you so much, Minho. I’m so incredibly in love with you that it hurts. If you don’t come back-”

“I will. I have to,” Minho whispered, squeezing both of Jisung’s hands. “Ji, I’m gonna-”

“Me too,” Jisung groaned loudly as Minho started tightening around him, and he shifted himself down to wrap him in a tight hug. 

Minho’s orgasm hit first, Jisung’s following closely behind it -- there wasn’t a single inch of space between them as they desperately rocked their hips and filled the room with their moans and sobs, with their continued confessions of their love under shaking breaths. Their tears mixed into the sheets of the bed, becoming one, just like the rest of them; like their souls, like their bodies. Connected, attached to one another. 

He was losing himself, could feel it, but he still clung to Jisung with every last drop of energy that he had, still whispered, “I love you, I love you,” like a mantra in his ear. Jisung was so warm now. 

Even after they came down from their highs, they stayed locked in an unmoving embrace. They didn’t want to let go. They wouldn’t let go. 

Minho didn’t want them to, but he could sense his arms growing weaker around Jisung, growing weaker until he had to let them fall onto the bed. He was shaking, muscles jolting a little, his mind powering down. He wasn’t afraid. He knew endless pills and countless hospital visits like the back of his hand, and maybe now he would finally be allowed to forget them. He would finally be with Jisung, his best friend, his soulmate. He couldn’t be afraid.

“I think… this is it,” he said, closing his eyes. He could feel his light fading away, Jisung’s sobs growing more distant by the second, his own having subsided completely. “Goodbye, Jisung. I’ll see you soon.”

“No!” Jisung shouted, shaking Minho’s limp body. “No, no, don’t go, please,” he murmured weakly.

Suddenly, everything was black as Minho ceased to exist for a moment, and then he felt like he was being torn apart, his soul ripped from his body. It was surreal, being jerked back into existence, staring at his own dead body, with Jisung crying over it and begging for him to come back. It was like he was looking through someone else’s eyes.

He looked down to his own hands, which were now just like Jisung’s, blue and translucent. There was a strange silence, a strange peace that he couldn’t quite put his finger on, but when he figured it out, he found himself smiling. His ears had stopped ringing. 

“Jisung!” Minho yelled, catching the younger’s attention.

“Minho!” Jisung looked up and squealed, immediately floating towards him. “You’re a ghost!” He took Minho in his arms, spinning the both of them around in happy little circles. He didn’t feel cold anymore.

“I told you I’d come back,” Minho’s voice was smug, but he was ugly crying, sobbing openly with his face pressed against Jisung’s hair.

“I know,” Jisung cried into his shoulder. “But I was so scared.”

“I know, baby,” Minho soothed, cradling Jisung in his arms. Truthfully, he had been too for a moment. No matter how positive he was that he would return, there was always the chance that something could go wrong, and in those brief few seconds where he only saw black, he had been terrified out of his mind. “But I’d never leave you,” he said, placing a kiss on top of Jisung’s head.

“I’ll never leave you again either,” Jisung promised, tilting his head up to stare at Minho. “You look pretty in ghost form, you know. Less sick, more round, like you used to be,” Jisung giggled through his tears.

“Thank you.” Minho was positive he would be blushing, if that were even possible as a ghost. He felt his face heat up, but he didn’t know if it was visible or not. “But my body…” he trailed off, his eyes wandering over to his corpse, whose legs were still spread out obscenely. 

“ _Oh,_ ” Jisung stared. “You look…. Lewd. We can’t leave you like that.”

Minho agreed, and they began the process of cleaning up Minho’s body. It felt strange, seeing himself like that, but he got over the weirdness of it eventually when they finally finished cleaning him up and dressed him in his favorite clothes: a pair of black jeans and one of Jisung’s old hoodies.

“What about your family…?” Jisung asked solemnly. 

“Oh, you’re right.” Minho hadn’t much thought about them; they weren’t particularly close, but he figured they might want some closure, so he jotted down a quick suicide note and put it on the nightstand. He made sure to pick up the necklace, Jisung’s necklace, and wrapped it around his lover’s wrist, having to knot the chains due to the broken clasp. Jisung smiled warmly.

When everything seemed in order, they left the apartment, with one of the neighbors screaming as they saw the door open and close while there was seemingly nobody there.

“So now what?” Jisung giggled at the neighbor’s reaction. “Should we haunt people? Oh! I can teach you how to be a disco ball!”

“I think we should move on. We’re ghosts, and that’s what ghosts do, right? When they’ve got no unfinished business, they can just… pass on. I think that’s how that works.”

“How do we do that?” Jisung asked.

“I don’t know, maybe we just float up into the sky?” Minho offered.

“That sounds dumb.”

“You sound dumb,” Minho joked, poking at Jisung’s side. Jisung squealed and tickled Minho in retaliation, and then they were both laughing and crying outside of their apartment, hands digging at each other’s sides.

They soon fell into a comfortable silence, and Minho took the opportunity to capture Jisung’s lips in a loving, tender kiss. When he pulled back, it was _bright;_ it looked like the sky had torn open and inside of it was this beautiful, inviting light.

“I think that’s for us,” Minho whispered, taking Jisung’s hand in his. 

“I think so too,” Jisung hummed contentedly. He squeezed Minho’s hand tight.

“Just in case I never get to say it again: I love you.” Minho smiled, staring at Jisung lovingly. He kissed him one last time, and they both stood up. 

“I love you too,” Jisung shakily exhaled, beginning to hover above the ground. 

This was it; this was the end for them, or perhaps it was only the beginning. Either way, hand in hand, they floated upwards into the light, headed together into the unknown.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you so much for reading and I hope you liked it at least a little. Comments and feedback of any sort are always greatly appreciated :)
> 
> Twitter: [jibrator](https://twitter.com/jibrator)
> 
> Curiouscat: [SephSung](https://curiouscat.me/SephSung)
> 
> PS I am sorry for any pain I might have caused lol THIS WASN'T SUPPOSED TO BE SAD IDK WHAT HAPPENED ALSO HAPPY HALLOWEEN AGAIN WOOOO


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